


How (Not) to Grow Up

by protectoroffaeries



Series: High School AU Stories [1]
Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: F/M, High School AU, M/M, i have the big picture, it's gonna be alright, okay so i'm not sure exactly how this is gonna go yet, you're welcome/i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:58:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectoroffaeries/pseuds/protectoroffaeries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Don't do it this way.)</p><p>Dexter Vex is a teenager in the small town of Sanctuary Hill. Going into his tenth grade year, he's got old friends and new, family and feuds, and a capital offense to deal with. </p><p>And don't even ask how he feels about Saracen Rue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Plan (or, Better Yet, the Lack Thereof )

**Author's Note:**

> You guys, I have no idea how this is going to go, but I had this idea at like 1 am last week, and I spent like three days creating characters and settings and an incomplete plot. I tried to start it yesterday, but my writer's block wouldn't give me anything. Luckily, I woke up this morning and BAM, it was there.
> 
> This is a High School AU from Dexter's perspective (oh boy lord help us all), and as such most of the characters are teenage versions of those you know and love (OH BOY LORD HELP US ALL). I'll try to stay as true to them as possible.
> 
> First Note: This is Americanized. The whole thing's complex enough without me trying to figure out other countries' school systems. 
> 
> Also, another note: I created families for the Dead Men, and while they'll mostly be background characters, there are two that are pretty important to the plot: Skulduggery's older brother Riagán and Dexter's father Alaister. Hopefully you won't think them too terrible.
> 
> Warning: There's murder talk basically right off the bat. No gory descriptions or anything. 
> 
> Alright, I think that's all for now! Enjoy!

Dexter had a pretty good day at school, which should’ve been the first sign that something terrible was going to happen later. The universe, even with all its cruelty, had a line. Dexter hoped that one day he would be able to appreciate that.

He was doing some English homework at the kitchen table when the doorbell rang. Something about The Merchant of Venice. His teacher loved Shakespeare, but he wasn't Dexter’s favorite.

Dexter walked down the hall with a cookie in his mouth, relishing in the fact that his parents weren't home, and opened the door. 

Unsurprisingly, Skulduggery stood behind it. Surprisingly, he was uncharacteristically disheveled, like he'd tossed on his clothes, and there was something sticky in his hair.

“Skul? Are you alright?”

“I need you to help me get rid of a body,” Skulduggery said quickly, the words stumbling out of his mouth and almost betraying him as they had when he was younger. 

Dexter didn't know how to respond to that.

“Dexter, please don't panic,” Skulduggery requested, his voice inappropriately calm given the situation. 

“You killed someone?” he whispered.

“It was an accident.”

“You kill-” Dexter started to shout, but Skulduggery rushed over the threshold and clasped his hand over Dexter’s mouth. 

“Please don't tell the world, it's bad enough that you and Riagán know.” 

Riagán knew. That was good, at least. Riagán would know what to do. Dexter calmed down just a bit, enough to pull Skulduggery’s hand from his face. Skulduggery let him do so with no more than a cautious stare.

“Where is Riagán?” asked Dexter. 

“I’m right here.” Riagán walked up behind Skulduggery. It never ceased to amaze Dexter how alike they looked, and today was no different. They even had the same sticky stuff in their hair. As it oozed out of Riagán’s hair and down onto his cheek, Dexter realized it was blood. His stomach churned unpleasantly.

Dexter peered over Riagán’s shoulder, desperate to think of something other than murder. Riagán’s shitty van was parked over the curb, ruining the grass. Dexter’s father was going to be royally pissed. 

“Okay, you two need to come inside and wash that b-blood out of your hair, and then you need to tell me what the fuck happened,” Dexter said.

“It’s not blood,” Skulduggery replied.

“It’s fake blood. The kind that comes with vampire costumes,” said Riagán. He was barely taller than Skulduggery, and while his voice wasn’t quite as smooth, it was deeper. It gave away who was who more than their physical appearances. 

“So you… didn’t actually k-” Dexter began hopefully, but Riagán pushed him backward into his house, and Skulduggery slammed the door shut behind them. Any hope Dexter had diminished. 

“There is someone dead,” hissed Riagán, “and we’ll explain everything to you, but right now we need a place to put this body and a scapegoat.”

“Scapegoat?” Skulduggery and Dexter repeated in unison.

Riagán ran his fingers through hair, slicking them with the fake blood. “Dexter, I’m going to frame your father for murder.”

Dexter felt dizzy. “Okay. What do I need to do?”


	2. Chapter 1: Low and Cain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun drinking game: take a shot every time Dex mentions his daddy issues.

TWO WEEKS PRIOR

Sanctuary High School was a long school, stretched out down the street like a lazy serpent. Its grey brick walls only helped emphasize that effect. Dreary and sleepy, which was appropriate, given that was how it made Dexter feel, on a good day. 

Dexter remembered looking forward to attending the school when he was a child, and as such, he was perhaps inappropriately excited on his first day of ninth grade. His enthusiasm dwelled quickly. All his father’s promises about “more freedom” never came to fruition, although Dexter wasn’t particularly surprised about that. His father’s promises didn’t mean anything.

“Dexter, you look like you’re about to cry,” Skulduggery said, sounding amused. Dexter caught the look of slight concern in his eye, though.

“I hate this place,” pouted Dexter. Skulduggery patted him on the shoulder. 

“Only two more years after this one.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

Skulduggery smiled. “No, simply a fact.”

Dexter was often jealous of Skulduggery. He tried not to let it show - his father would kill him if he thought Dexter was jealous of anyone or anything. That’d make him ungrateful. But… Skulduggery had two loving parents and two siblings, and they all supported each other. Dexter didn’t exactly have that. 

“You’re a dick.”

“I am that,” Skulduggery agreed. 

Skulduggery and Dexter were cousins - their mothers were sisters, though they couldn’t be more different. And besides having a better family life than Dexter, Skulduggery also had the better appearance. It really wasn’t fair. Skulduggery - and his older brother, Riagán - had beautiful dark hair and high cheekbones and winning smiles. Meanwhile, Dexter was pale and blond, sharp and cold - just like his father. 

The first bell rang. Skulduggery and Dexter crossed the courtyard and passed under the stone arch that adorned the school’s entrance. They met up with Ghastly and Saracen in the Arts Hall. Saracen had an instrument slung over his shoulder - Dexter didn’t know what it was this week. The music teacher, Ms. Pharos, said that he just hadn’t found the right instrument yet. Saracen’s friends, however, joked that he had commitment issues. Ghastly looked distracted; Dexter was positive he wasn’t listening to a word Saracen said. 

“Ghastly,” Skulduggery said, clapping a hand onto Ghastly’s shoulder. Ghastly startled, which confirmed Dexter’s suspicion that he wasn’t listening. Saracen broke off mid-sentence. 

“Bespoke, are you ignoring me?” Saracen demanded.

“Sorry,” said Ghastly sheepishly.

“What were you thinking about?” Skulduggery asked in a tone that implied he knew exactly what Ghastly was thinking about and was highly amused by it. Skulduggery had an annoying habit of doing that. 

Ghastly opened his mouth, presumably to answer, but he was interrupted - or, more accurately, distracted - by a very pretty - and familiar - blond girl walked by. 

“Hey Ghastly, Saracen. Pleasant. Vex,” said Tanith Low. 

Tanith was wild. She always wore leather - leather jackets to leather boots to leather pants - and she had motorcycle, though Dexter didn’t know how she got away with that. According to Saracen, she didn’t even have a license. She also had dated a number of guys, including Saracen. 

“This is Valkyrie,” Tanith said, and Dexter’s eyes snapped to the girl next to Tanith. He’d missed her, somehow. Must’ve been distracted by the leather. Or something. “She’s new. A freshman, and also my neighbor. Saracen,” she added, pointing at him jovially, “try not to be a dick to her.”

“No promises,” Saracen replied with a wink. Dexter thought he saw Ghastly shoot Saracen a glare. 

“Hey Ghastly, you have first period over in the Science Wing, right?” asked Tanith. Dexter wondered how Tanith knew that, but then Ghastly blushed, and that was all Dexter needed to see. 

“Yeah.”

“Val has first period over there, too. Would you mind showing her to Professor Grouse’s room?” 

“Sure.” 

Tanith smiled, a wide and beautiful smile, and then she walked off down the hall with a little wave.

“So, uh, you’re new?” Ghastly said awkwardly to Valkyrie. Saracen and Dexter laughed. Dexter attempted to cover it up, but Saracen laughed loud and unashamed.

“Yes, she’s new, Ghastly,” said Skulduggery drily. “Valkyrie, where did you come from?”

“My mother,” the brown-haired girl deadpanned. Skulduggery blinked, obviously startled. Dexter laughed out loud along with Saracen now. 

“That wasn’t what I meant,” grumbled Skulduggery.

“Thank you for that,” Saracen said, flicking imaginary tears of mirth from his eyes. 

“I’m Dexter,” Dexter introduced. “The one you just schooled is Skulduggery. The fool who was blushing at Tanith is Ghastly. And that’s Saracen tearing up over there.”

“Valkyrie Cain. I moved here from Kansas, by the way.”

Skulduggery mumbled something that was undoubtedly an insult cleverly mixed with a Wizard of Oz reference under his breath. Valkyrie ignored him. 

The second bell rang before Dexter could ask why she’d moved. She and Ghastly disappeared down the hall rather quickly, rushing off toward the Science Wing. Skulduggery stormed after them, and Dexter amused himself with the thought that he was going to give her a piece of his mind.

“You like that kid?” Saracen asked.

“I like anyone that can put Skul in his place.”

Saracen laughed, nodded. “Yeah, I guess she’s cool. Don’t be late to Deuce’s class again, okay?” And with that, he left, heading for the music room.

Dexter was late to Deuce’s class.


	3. Chapter 2: Larrikin and a Tuna Sandwich

Dexter had a problem.

Well, Dexter had multiple problems. He had that detention from being tardy to Deuce’s class three days ago, when he'd met Valkyrie Cain. He had a gross sandwich in his lunch box, which made him wish for the umpteen time that he was allowed to make his own lunch. 

Apparently, though, that was not a gentleman’s job. Dexter wasn't even sure who made his lunch. He had a feeling it was that maid that looked like she wanted to stab him in the face all the time. It'd explain the absolutely toxic aroma coming from his food.

But that wasn't Dexter’s major problem. His major problem was the brunette sitting across from him.

“What's your name again?” Dexter asked, although he didn't really care. Saracen, who was sitting next to said brunette, shot him a glare. His lack of sincerity was noticeable, then.

“Larrikin,” said the brunette. He had a stupid haircut, all curtained over his eyes like one of those emo kids. 

“That's your first name?” 

“That's my only name.”

“Larrikin doesn't have a first name,” Saracen said, the shut the fuck up and don't ruin this for me heavily implied by his strained tone.

Dexter couldn't help it. He snorted. “Right. Okay.”

“It’s true,” Larrikin said. Dexter might not have been able to see his eyes, but he could definitely see Larrikin’s frown. “My parents couldn't decide on a name. They're still arguing about it.”

“I thought you said you lived with your sister?” 

“I do,” said Larrikin. “Mom’s absolutely bonkers - no kiddies allowed near her. And Da’s in jail. But they send each other letters about it. Sometimes the prison sends them to Marisol.”

Larrikin confessed all of these family issues with a half smile and flippant attitude. Dexter concluded that he was just as crazy as his mother.

“Marisol’s your sister, right?” asked Saracen. He rested his elbow on the table, rested his chin on his palm, and looked at this Larrikin character like he was a god. Dexter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Saracen’s taste in men left something to be desired.

“My older sister, yeah. I've a younger sister called Annamarie, too. She's in first grade.”

“My brother's in the first grade,” Saracen said. “Mason.”

“Aren't they such adorable little hellions at that age?” Larrikin singsonged. Dexter had never heard someone singsong in real life. It was terrible. 

Saracen, however, looked positively charmed. He laughed, eyes still glued on Larrikin. 

“Your parents managed to name your sisters and not you, then?” said Dexter, venom in his voice.

“My parents have a list a mile long of girls’ names they agree on. They didn't expect to have to name a boy.” Larrikin still spoke in that easy manner, like nothing about what he was saying would unnerve anyone.

“How does that make sense?” Dexter nearly shouted. Saracen shot him another glare. People from the lunch tables beside theirs glanced over at them. Great. Now they're be whispers about why he'd raised his voice. Typical.

“Mom’s batshit crazy. She was convinced she'd never have a son. She even argued with the midwife, insisted that I was a defective changling. She's probably right.” Larrikin shrugged. “But apparently “the spirits” told her that I was, in fact, her true child and then started the arguments about my name.”

“You're a lunatic,” Dexter said. 

“Dexter!” seethed Saracen. “Could you stop being an asshole for five seconds?”

“It's alright, Saracen,” Larrikin said. “I should probably go anyway - my next class is over on the other side of school.” 

Larrikin gathered up his stuff, slinging his bag over his shoulder and throwing his jacket over the bag. They were both ratty, holey things. Dexter wondered how they managed to achieve their intented purposes, what with being so worn.

“Are you going to eat your lunch?” Larrikin asked as he stood up, and Dexter realized belatedly that Larrikin was talking to him. 

“No.”

“Can I have it?”

Larrikin didn't seem ashamed of his question at all. Dexter’s lip curled. “Take it,” he grumbled. 

“Thanks,” Larrikin said, snatching the sandwich from the lunch box. “See you around, Saracen.”

“Bye, Larrikin.”

As soon as Larrikin’s retreating form passed through the doors of the cafeteria, Saracen fixed the mother of death glares on Dexter. “You fucker. I tell you I like the new guy, you say it's cool for him to eat with us, and then you're a total dick. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Kiss your mother with that mouth?” muttered Dexter.

“Lose your friends with that attitude?” Saracen mimicked viciously, and then he got up and left.

Watching Saracen storm off, Dexter felt a pang of regret. He didn't like Larrikin - the kid looked like bad news. But… Saracen liked Larrikin. And Saracen was Dexter’s best friend. 

“I royally messed that up,” he muttered.

His empty lunch box gave no reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, Dexter's jealous. Isn't he a jerk?


	4. Chapter 3: Detention and a Creep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, maybe there's another important OC - Gamine Pleasant. She's great. I hope.
> 
> This chapter is longer than the past two by about 400 words. I spent a long time considering breaking it up. It does have a point where I could've done that) but I decided against it. I might change that later; I don't know. 
> 
> Warnings: There's a homophobic slur used multiple times in this chapter.

Dexter was on time to Deuce’s detention, which the old man pointed out with some amusement when Dexter walked in. Dexter didn't think it was all that funny, but he gave Deuce a little smile anyway. 

He sat down in the front row and pulled out his history homework. Deuce taught world history, and for all his sternness, he would still help Dexter with his work during detention. 

“Vex,” Deuce said, not long after detention had started. Vengeous and Krav, two meat heads that always hung out with Mevolent and his crew, were the only ones in detention with him. They sneered at him as he went over to Deuce’s desk.

“Yes, sir?”

“You have to start showin’ up to class on time,” Deuce said. 

“I know. I'm sorry, sir.”

“What's making you late all the time?”

Dexter shrugged. Deuce wouldn't like to hear that he was always late because he was hanging out with his friends on the other side of the school.

Deuce raised an eyebrow. “If it's some girl - or boy, I ain't here to judge - but -” 

“It’s not,” Dexter said, a bit more sharply than he intended, “it's just - I'll get it under control, sir.”

Deuce gave him a long, hard stare. Dexter was sure he was about launch into a lecture about responsibility, but an unexpected interruption saved him.

“Professor Deuce,” came a voice from the doorway. A boy with a striking face and golden-brown eyes poked his head in. He glanced nervously at Vengeous and Krav, who both shot scowls at him. Dexter stared at him, captivated by his appearance. 

“Yeah, boy?” Deuce said. Deuce always sounded gruff, but his tone softened when he spoke to the beautiful boy.

“I, uh, need to talk to you. When you're done here.”

“Alright, Ravel. Just sit outside the door and do your work for a minute,” replied Deuce. 

The boy, Ravel, nodded. He pulled his head from the doorway and shut the door.

“Who is that?” Dexter asked. He felt like he was in a daze. 

“Erskine Ravel,” Deuce said, frowning at Dexter. “Don't you think about it.”

“Think about what?”

Deuce narrowed his eyes. “Do not lead that poor boy on or so help me, Vex, I will make your life a living hell,” he growled lowly. 

“I wasn't -”

“I saw the way you looked at him.” Deuce leaned back in his chair. “Get back to your seat and don't be late again.”

Dexter rushed back his seat, stumbling in his hurry. Vengeous and Krav snickered. Dexter hoped his face wasn't turning red.

“Fag,” hissed Vengeous. Dexter glanced at Deuce, but he was grading papers and didn't seem to have heard the slur. So Dexter opted to ignore Vengeous. He wasn't worth a fight.

“Hey, fag,” Vengeous said, kicking the leg of Dexter’s desk. Dexter worked on his homework. 

“Hey, faggot, are you deaf?” muttered Krav from the other side of Vengeous. Dexter resolved to sit in the back of the room the next time he was in detention. 

“Don't think we didn't notice how you looked at Deuce’s golden boy,” Vengeous said. “Like you wanted to-” 

“Shut up,” snapped Dexter. Deuce looked up from his papers. Of course, he'd only heard Dexter. 

“Boys,” he said, “shut your mouths. You're in detention.”

Detention ended at four o’clock. Dexter ran from the history room before Vengeous and Krav could start harassing him again. He slowed a little as he passed Erskine Ravel, whose eyes flickered up from the book he was reading to meet Dexter’s.

“Watch out for those douchebags,” he mumbled.

“It's okay,” Erskine said, “Deuce won't let them do anything to me.” 

Dexter gave a nod and left.

***

Dexter usually walked home. His father was still at work, and his mother didn't like to drive. His house wasn't terribly far from the school, so it wasn't a big deal.

He turned down the street into his neighborhood and saw two figures in front of the Pleasants’ house. Perhaps he'd stop and talk to them. He enjoyed his cousins’ company, and his aunt loved to bake. He could probably get a cookie or a slice of cake while he was there.

As he got closer, however, he realized that only one of the people in yard was his cousin - his youngest cousin, Gamine. The other was someone he knew from school, a slacker called Nefarian Serpine. His hobbies included sleeping during class and egging the teacher on. He was surprised Riagán and Skulduggery let Serpine near the house. They were both overprotective of their little sister.

“-wish you'd just fuck off,” Gamine spat at Serpine. She sounded royally pissed, which was another surprise for Dexter. She was known for being one of the more levelheaded members of the family.

“C’mon, baby,” Serpine said. 

“I'm not your baby, you creep.” She shoved him and tried to go toward her house. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him, a grin on his face. Dexter didn't like the whole situation. 

“Is there a problem over here?” Dexter shouted as he walked toward the pair. 

“Nothing that concerns you, Vex,” Serpine replied, giving Gamine a look Dexter didn't quite understand.

“Dex, can you get this loser to go away?” Gamine asked.

“I am not a loser,” Serpine declared. “And you don't want me to go away.”

“She just said she does,” Dexter said, stopping beside the pair of them and crossing his arms over his chest.

“She doesn't mean it. This doesn't concern you, Vex. You run on home.”

“No,” interjected Gamine, “you run home, Nefarian. What part of ‘we're through’ did you not understand?”

“You dated this guy?” Dexter asked, incredulous. 

Gamine snorted without amusement. “Yeah, it was an awful decision on my part.”

“Don't be like that,” Serpine said. 

“Go away!”

“But Gamine,” he said, wrenching her forward by the arm he was still holding, pulling her even closer to him. She stumbled and then glared. Serpine didn't seem to notice.“I-”

Dexter didn't let him finish. He grabbed Serpine’s hand, the one that was gripping Gamine, and yanked it off her arm. She snatched her arm back to her chest and rubbed it. 

“Get out of here, Serpine,” Dexter ordered. “Stay the hell away from Gamine.”

Serpine glared, eyes darting between Dexter and Gamine. Dexter stepped in front of his cousin, arms still crossed. “Go.”

Serpine finally listened, retreating from the lawn with nothing more than a few insults grumbles under his breath. Dexter had a foreboding feeling that this wouldn't be the last time Gamine would have to deal with that bastard.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Dexter questioned, turning to his cousin. “Isn't Serpine a little old for you?”

“Only two years,” Gamine said. Apparently,she didn't buy into the idea that two years was a long time when she herself was only fourteen. Of course she didn't. “We broke up, anyway. He was too controlling.”

“Do Riagán and Skulduggery know about him?”

“No. And you better not tell them, Dexter. They'll overreact.”

“Maybe that wouldn't be unwarranted,” Dexter said. 

“Dexter, please.”

“Fine. But if he continues to give you trouble, you better tell them. He could hurt you.”

“Hmph. He'd never hurt me,” Gamine said.

She was wrong.


	5. Chapter 4: Dinner and a Motive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha.. I got zero sleep last night... school sucks... here's the next chapter.

It didn't take long for Gamine’s assertion that her ex wouldn't hurt her to be proven wrong. A couple days after Dexter encountered the troubled pair in the Pleasant yard, the phone rang during dinner.

No one left the dinner table during dinner. It was when Dexter saw the most of his father, who insisted that the family sit down and eat together every night. Dexter and his mother were both expected to give a brief summary of their day, and to listen politely to what his father was doing at work.

“I did my homework,” Dexter told his parents. It was a rainy Sunday evening; it wasn't like there was much else to do. 

“And what homework was that?” Father asked between bites of chicken. Mother was a good cook, which was what Father expected of her. Dexter had no idea if she'd ever really cooked before marrying him. She never spoke about her premarital life. In fact, Dexter’s mother didn't speak much at all.

“Algebra 2. Logarithms. And then an essay for English.”

Dexter’s father was about to respond when the phone rang. It had a distinctive ring to it because it played the tune of We Are Family, which one of the Pleasant boys had most certainly changed it to years ago. Aunt Angela had been delighted - “Now you'll know if it's me calling!” - and Father had not. He'd never gotten around to returning it to it's default ring, however. 

Aunt Angela and Uncle Mark knew of their dinnertime ritual and of Dexter’s father's strict nature. They wouldn't interrupt unless it was an emergency. Dexter felt a chill run down his spine, and he glanced at his mother. 

She sat ramrod straight in her chair, her eyes wandering to the door to the living room, where the phone sat on an end table in it's cradle.

“Esmeralda,” Father said. “When you call Angela back after dinner, kindly remind her that dinner is at six o’clock sharp and that I do not like to be interrupted during my meal.”

For a split second, Dexter thought his mother was going to argue. But the moment passed, and she went back to eating her dinner. The phone quit ringing. 

Father spent the rest of dinner talking about the company. Dexter’s father owned an oil company, and it was his pride and joy. Dexter was equally annoyed and relieved that it filled both of those positions. 

“Dexter,” he said just as they were finishing up, “what do you think?”

Dexter froze in the middle of lifting his fork to his mouth. He hadn't been listening. Father never asked him anything beyond what he'd done during the day. They never discussed the company; Father just talked. What was he asking for Dexter’s opinion on?

Dexter slowly set his fork down. “I'm sorry, Father, what are you asking me about?”

Dexter’s father narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips. “Esmeralda, be a dear and take the dishes to the kitchen. Dexter and I need to talk,” he said, his tone sharp and ominous. 

Dexter’s mother glanced at her son, then quickly looked away. She gathered up as many plates as she could carry and scurried from the room. 

“Father?” Dexter asked nervously. He tried not to fidget in his seat. His father hated fidgeting. 

“Dexter, you must listen to me when I speak to you,” his father began. “If you wish to grow up and have any sort of life, that is. You need my advice. It is very clear to me that you don't know what you're doing, and that's been fine up until now. But you have to start learning or else you'll find yourself out on the streets.” Father leaned back in his chair. “And we wouldn't want that, now, would we?”

Dexter wasn't much like his father. His father, rich and successful, but with a desire for strict control. He didn't even look like his father, who was dark haired and blue eyed and traditionally handsome. He was more of a male copy of his mother, in looks and mind, though he hoped he wasn't as passive as her.

“No, Father.”

Father sat back in his chair. “Perhaps we should talk more on a personal level before we talk business. You're always so vague when I ask about your day. And you've never told me about any of your friends.” He paused. “Although it wouldn't be far-fetched to assume you have none of those, now would it?”

Dexter swallowed a remark about him probably having more real friends than his father and said, “My best friend's name is Saracen Rue.”

“Rue? Never heard of his family.”

“They're… they're not rich.”

There were many responses Dexter expected his father to have for that, but bursting into nearly crazed laughter wasn't one of them. “Ah, a charity case. How sweet of you, Dexter.”

The smile that curled across his father's lips was cold and cruel. “Don't worry; soon I'll get you some friends with standing.”

Dexter wanted to scream. The last thing he needed was for his father to take a true interest in him. Before he could retort that he didn't want friends “with standing,” Mother returned, phone in her delicate hand.

“It's Gamine,” she said, looking to be on the verge of tears. Dexter noticed his father’s slight sneer of disdain at the sound of his niece's name. He didn't approve of the Pleasants’ odd naming style. “She was attacked by some boys on her way home from a friend's house. She's in the hospital.”

“And what does Angela want us to do about that?” Father asked, sounding bored.

Mother’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “She wants nothing from you, Alaister. She requested that Dexter and I come to the hospital, though.”

“Like I care what you do, woman,” Dexter’s father said, which was a blatant lie. He had very specific expectations of his wife. Still, Dexter’s mother seemed to take that as permission to go.

“Come on, Dexter,” she said, and Dexter didn't waste a moment heading for the door.

The hospital was within walking distance of the house, so it was a testimony to how concerned Dexter’s mother was that she opted to drive. She parked haphazardly and rushed inside, Dexter barely keeping up. Sometimes he wondered if she cared about much of anything at all; this was evidence that she did, and that made Dexter feel warm inside, despite his fears for Gamine.

The Pleasants were crammed into the packed waiting room, scattered amongst the other patrons of the hospital. Dexter’s mother went directly for her sister, but Dexter slowed next to where Skulduggery and Riagán were sitting.

“-find out who did this,” Skulduggery was saying, his voice tightly controlled.

“I think I know who did it,” Dexter whisped lowly. The Pleasant boys weren't the type to jump in surprise, but speed at which their eyes snapped to Dexter was a sign that he had startled them.

“Who?” Riagán demanded.

Dexter proceeded to tell them of Friday's events. As his story progressed, their faces became graver. “She didn't seem to think he would hurt her,” Dexter finished, “but I have my doubts.”

“Why didn't you tell us?” Skulduggery asked, his voice a deathly calm.

Dexter faltered. “She… she asked me not to. I didn't think-”

“No, you didn't think,” Skulduggery agreed bitterly. Riagán laid a hand on his shoulder. 

“Skulduggery, this isn't Dexter’s fault. It's Nefarian Serpine’s,” he said, spitting out Serpine’s name like it was rotten food. “We'll handle him, Dexter. Thanks for telling us.”

And they did.


	6. Chapter 5: Jealousy and the Other Squad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, yay!
> 
> And in case any of you were wondering where the rest of the Dead Men were, they are here now!
> 
> Also: Questions? Comments? Anon hate? Seriously, drop me a line in the comment section of this story, I'm curious about your thoughts on it. (Although I'd really prefer constructive criticism to anon hate.)

On Monday morning, none of the Pleasants attended school. This was of no surprise to Dexter, nor Saracen and Ghastly, as Skulduggery had texted them from the hospital. 

Gamine’s injuries weren't severe; she had some bruises, a sprained wrist, and a black eye, but according to her testimony, she'd been able to slip away from them before they'd been able to do any permanent damage. In short, she was extraordinarily lucky.

The county police promised to track down Gamine’s attackers, but they had a reputation for not helping many people, and in fact, looking the other way when bribed. It was a frightening place to live in where the law could be bent and put into a wallet.

However, Dexter wasn't largely concerned about a repeat attack. Riagán and Skulduggery could protect her (and indeed, she'd already proven to be capable of defending herself to some degree). Serpine wouldn't stand a change if he came around again, with his goons or otherwise.

“How’s your cousin?” Ghastly asked at lunch. It was the first thing out of his mouth as he sat down. He and Skulduggery normally ate on the go, as Skulduggery insisted on going on little detective sprees during lunch. Last week, he'd been tracking down the who'd scratched Dexter’s phone number into a stall door in the boys’ room with a crude description of what Dexter would supposedly do when called. Dexter had told him multiple times that it didn't matter, he hadn't even gotten any calls in response to it, but Skulduggery had been insistant. Dexter now wondered if he'd made any progress, but today wasn't really the day to ask.

“The hospital released her this morning,” Dexter said. 

“That's good then, right?” Saracen said, sitting down himself. He hadn't mentioned Dexter’s rude attitude during their lunch with Larrikin yet, and Dexter fretted that it would come back to bite him at the worst of times.

“Yeah. She's supposed to take it easy for the rest of the week. Skul said she's pretty pissed about that.”

Saracen laughed. “Sounds like a Pleasant.”

“Any idea who's responsible?” Ghastly asked.   
“Yeah. Riagán and Skul are going to handle it.”

Ghastly frowned. “I don't know if that's the best-” he started to interject, but he was interrupted by a shout from a couple tables behind theirs.

The boisterous cafeteria atmosphere dimmed as most of the students turned to look at the source of the noise. 

“Say ‘uncle’!” Larrikin’s familiar voice grated on Dexter’s nerves. Who the hell did that guy think he was?

“Fuck you!” spat another voice he knew, though it was an octave too high and laced with pain. Dexter had to peer around Saracen to see Erskine, the beautiful boy from his day in detention. Larrikin had Erskine’s arm wrenched behind his back, twisting it in an unnatural manner. 

The cafeteria quieted even more as people realized this and hushed their friends. Violence always caught people’s attention.

The two boys sitting across from Larrikin and Erskine were ones Dexter didn't recognize - a tall guy with his black hair in a long braid and a redhead with freckles peppering his face. 

The guy with braid spoke. “Larrikin,” he said, his voice deeper than Dexter had expected, “let Erskine go.”

“Not until he says it.” To punctuate his point, Larrikin yanked Erskine’s arm upwards. It creaked in such a loud, sickening manner that Dexter heard someone gasp. 

“Oh my God,” said the redhead, or at least that's what Dexter thought he said. He spoke more quietly than his companions. “Did you break his arm?”

“No,” Larrikin said easily, just as Erskine grunted the very same word. 

The guy with the braid’s expression hadn't changed - in fact, Dexter noted that it had remained alarmingly impassive throughout the whole ordeal, but now there was forceful tone inflicted into his words. “Enough.”

“He has to say ‘uncle’.”

“Enough, Larrikin.”

Larrikin considered the braided guy’s words for a moment, then let go of Erskine’s arm. Erskine pulled his arm toward his chest, cradling it. “You're a dick.”

“Yeah,” agreed Larrikin with self satisfied grin.

“And… you're stronger than you look.” 

Larrikin responded to this, too, Dexter was sure, but he couldn't hear them anymore because the moment Larrikin had let go of Erskine, the chatter had gradually began to return. 

“What was that about?” Ghastly asked. 

“I don't know,” said Saracen.

“Guess he's not as good of a guy as you thought,” Dexter muttered. He regretted it instantly - would his mouth ever learn not to speak without his mind’s consent?

“Dexter!” hissed Saracen.

“What am I missing?” Ghastly demanded.

“Saracen has a thing for the guy that was breaking the other guy's arm,” Dexter said.

Saracen’s face turned beet red. “Shut up, Dexter,” he warned. 

“From the sound of it, though, he's already the tall guy’s little bitch,” Dexter added like Saracen hadn't even spoken. Why was it that he turned into a dick whenever that Larrikin bastard involved?

Ghastly sat back, sucked in a huge breath of air. His eyes darted between Saracen, who was directing a glare at Dexter that Dexter could feel more than see, and Dexter himself, who was trying to look unaffected and was probably failing miserably. 

“What's your problem, Dex?” asked Ghastly.

“I don't have a problem.”

“Yes, you do, you absolute dick,” Saracen snarled. “You're fucking jealous!”

“Jealous? Of who? That violent bastard over there?” Dexter gave a cold laugh. “No.”

“Saracen, Dexter, please-” Ghastly attempted to mediate, but it didn't to any good.

“You have no right to be upset, Dexter,” Saracen said angrily. “No right.”

“I can't be concerned about my friend being interested in an asshole? Well, sorry,” he snapped back in the most insincere tone he could muster.

Saracen grit his teeth. “Fuck you,” he said, and though he looked like he wanted to say more, he simply got up and left.

“Damn,” Ghastly breathed. 

“Yeah,” mumbled Dexter as he watched Saracen storm off. “Yeah.”


	7. Chapter 6: Apologies and the Ass Issue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter will probably come back to haunt me. It's probably not what you think, though. 
> 
> Anyway, we get more of the Dead Men together in this chapter! Yay! I know the plot's slowed a bit with these past couple of chapters, but don't worry; it'll pick up again soon.

Saracen didn’t speak to Dexter again for two days. In fact, he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Dexter. He sat with Larrikin and Erskine and the other two at lunch on Tuesday, and when he returned to their table on Wednesday, Dexter was about ready to get on his knees and beg for Saracen’s forgiveness. 

Saracen was Dexter’s best friend, and he need him now more than ever. The Pleasants still hadn’t returned to school, so Ghastly was the only friend he had right now. And it wasn’t that Dexter didn’t think of Ghastly as a friend - he just wasn’t Dexter’s best friend, he was Skulduggery’s. And as such, he’d taken to spending lunch texting Skulduggery about his sister and potential revenge plots. 

If the friendship drama wasn’t enough for Dexter, his father had tried to talk to him about the business again at dinner the night before. Dexter had been very careful to listen so as not to get scolded for being unable to answer a question, but he honestly found the whole running a company thing to be boring at best and tedious at worst. 

“Why don’t you just go and talk to him?” Ghastly suggested without looking up from his phone. Somehow he could sense Dexter was sulking. Or maybe it was just an educated guess; Dexter had been sulking and pouting and wallowing in teen angst for about three days now.

“About what?” huffed Dexter, glancing over at the other table. They all seemed to be laughing at something Larrikin said. Saracen’s head was thrown back like the shear force of the joke pushed it backwards. 

Dexter slumped toward the table. He didn’t even consider taking out his lunch. With his luck, it’d be another damn tuna sandwich. 

“Apologize for being a jealous prick.”

“I am not a jealous prick.”

“You sounded like one,” Ghastly pointed out. Dexter declined to comment because Ghastly was probably right. “Just go over and apologize. You’ll feel better.”

Dexter made a disgruntled noise, but after a few minutes of consideration, he decided to take Ghastly’s advice. It was better than spending all of his lunch period tapping his fingers against the table. 

Dexter navigated between the maze of lunch tables and quickly reached the one where Saracen, Larrikin, and Larrikin’s friends were sitting. They all quieted as they saw him approach. Saracen’s face contorted into a frown that nearly caused Dexter to run back to his table. But then he stealed himself and sat down.

“Dexter,” Saracen said, voice tight. “What are you doing?”

“I came to, uh, apologize,” said Dexter a bit dumbly, “for being, um, a jealous prick.”

Saracen just blinked at him, but Larrikin had the audacity to burst out laughing, and his friends all cracked grins. Dexter felt his face grow warm. 

“That was surprisingly mature of you, Dex,” Saracen said, and Dexter scowled a bit. “Apology accepted. Are you going to eat with us?”

“I… you’re not going to come back to our table now?”

“Well, no,” Saracen said. “I’ve kinda enjoyed eating with these guys.”

“Right. Well… okay.”

“You already know Larrikin,” continued Saracen. He gave Dexter a pointed look, one that clearly demanded he not be an asshole to Larrikin again. Dexter mentally vowed to try. “Then there’s Erskine.”

“We’ve met,” Erskine said. “Those guys didn’t give me any trouble, in case you were wondering.”

“What guys?” Saracen asked.

“When I had detention,” said Dexter, “Vengeous and Krav noticed that I, er, I guess I stared at Erskine. Um. Yeah, and they called me a fag for it. So. I didn’t want them to make fun him for my… well. You know.”

“It’s alright,” Erskine told Dexter. “If you were checking me out. I was checking you out, too. You’ve got a nice ass.” Dexter hadn’t thought it possible, but his face actually did manage to burn hotter.

“Can we not talk about ass while I’m eating?” complained the redhead before Dexter could even begin to think of a response. 

“Hopeless, you know ass waits for no man. Or woman. Or person of any other gender. You must alway pursue the booty,” Larrikin said sagely. Erskine nodded in agreement.

Hopeless shook his head. “No ass while I’m eating. Period.”

“What if you’re eat ass?” Larrikin asked. Saracen actually did a spit take, spraying the table with the grape flavored water he’d been drinking. Hopeless’s face colored, a splotchy red mess that distorted his freckles and blended in with his hair.   
“Larrikin, can you not be civil for one lunch period?” said the guy with the braid, the one Dexter still didn’t know the name of. 

“No, Anton, I cannot.”

“Larrikin.”

“Anton.”

Anton gave Larrikin a stern look, and Larrikin withered under it within seconds. Dexter wondered exactly how Anton managed to reign Larrikin in so easily. Larrikin was terribly rude, crude, and obnoxious, but he toned it down under Anton’s command. It was perplexing. Perhaps Larrikin had a thing for Anton. 

The rest of the lunch period passed in more companionable conversation. Erskine and, after he recovered from his embarrassment, Hopeless asked Dexter a bit more about himself. Anton kept giving Larrikin pointed looks whenever he seemed to start acting up. Saracen stared at Larrikin like he was the damn sun, which was annoying. Doe eyed Saracen was not Dexter’s prefered Saracen. 

Still, he didn’t make an ass (ahem) of himself this time. At least there was that.


	8. Chapter 7: Two Pleasants and Heartfelt Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness, you guys, I promise this is all relevant. I hope it doesn't seem like Dex's bouncing about too much right now. High school's tough, man.
> 
> Also, I have finals starting tomorrow, so I probably won't have time to post another chapter until the middle of next week (unless I procrastinate on studying by writing).

Gamine didn't seem happy to see him, but she didn't slam the door in his face. “If you're here to say ‘I told you so’ help me God, I will murder you.”

Her eye still had an splotchy purple ring of bruise around it, and her wrist was taped, but it did look like she was healing. Dexter hadn't been around to see her since she was attacked, which probably made him a bad cousin, but he'd had a feeling that she wouldn't want to see him. He was apparently correct in that assumption. 

“That's not why I'm here,” Dexter assured her. “I came to see if you were alright.” That was only partially a lie; Mother had asked him to stop by the Pleasants soon and check on her. He'd just picked today because he was confused about something else post Saracen accepting his apology at lunch, and he thought maybe one of the Pleasants would be able to help.

Dexter realized that was more than a bit selfish of him and resolved to make sure it wasn't Gamine he asked for advice. Not that he'd planned on asking her anyway. She'd probably tease him forever about it. Skulduggery would, too. 

Gamine sighed theatrically. “I'm fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. Her expression wasn't as convincing as her tone. She looked lost, and her eyes kept flickering away from Dexter’s. 

Dexter didn't push it, although he figured they'd have to talk about it more later. “Can I come in? I have a question for your brother.”

“Ah, an ulterior motive,” Gamine said, a smile finally gracing her face. “Which one are you looking for? Skul isn't here; he went off with Ghastly. Some detective thing. You know how he is.”

“I actually wanted to talk to Riagán, if he isn't busy.”

Gamine raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask. Dexter appreciated that. Of his three cousins, Riagán was the one he spent time with the least, and almost always one of his younger siblings was around when they did hang out.

“I'll go get him,” Gamine said, motioning for Dexter to step inside. 

“No need,” Dexter countered. “I'll go to him. Is he in his room?”

“Yeah,” said Gamine. “Dex, if there's something you need to talk about, you can talk to me.”

Sometimes Dexter found it hard to believe that Gamine was two years younger than him. She was definitely more mature than him. “I know. But it’s… a guy thing.”

“A guy thing,” she repeated, looking unimpressed. “Is this about a girl?”

“No.”

“A guy?”

“Gamine!”

“It's about a guy,” she said decisively. “I didn't know that you're gay.”

“I'm not,” Dexter insisted. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was. He'd had a girlfriend once and enjoyed that relationship immensely, at least until the end. 

“Whatever. Just know that Riagán doesn't know how to pick up men.”

“Oh, and you do?”

Gamine gave him a winning smile. “Naturally.”

Dexter rolled his eyes and walked away to the sound of her laughter. He climbed the stairs and made his way down the hall. Riagán’s room was the farthest one back. Dexter knocked on the closed door.

“Who the hell-” Riagán was muttering as he pulled the door open. “Oh. Dex. Of course, my siblings would never knock. Uh, what's up?”

Riagán hair was a mess, like he'd been running his fingers through it all day. He looked tired, too, if the bags under his eyes were any indication of his recent sleep patterns.

“Can I… talk to you about something… personal, or is it a bad time? I know you and Skul are trying to help Gam right now, and I get if you're too busy with that or school or something,” Dexter rambled, hoping he didn't sound half as awkward as he felt.

“Dex,” Riagán said, “I'm not doing anything of importance right now. You can come in.”

Riagán retreated into his room, and Dexter followed, shutting the door behind him. It was slightly messy, but compared to his own and Skulduggery’s it seems spotless. Riagán sat down on his bed and motioned for Dexter to take then desk chair. 

Riagán was one of those people Dexter looked up to but never really knew how to talk to. He was nineteen, going to a community college in the next town over for a few years, and he was looking to eventually get some degrees in a major science field beyond Dexter’s comprehension. Maybe it was biochemistry? 

Dexter was probably, if he allowed himself to admit it, jealous of Riagán. And Skulduggery and Gamine, to a lesser extent. He could do things like pursue a biochemical degree from his parents’ house. And meanwhile, Dexter had his domineering father and an oil company in his future. And Riagán was acutely aware of that, probably acutely aware that he was the only person outside of Dexter’s handful of friends that he could talk to, and dammit, Dexter was sure Riagán pitied him. 

“Riagán, have you ever fallen in love?” Dexter blurted, just as Riagán openned his mouth to prompt Dexter to say something. 

Riagán quirked a smile. “Yeah, I have. You think you're in love, Dex?”

“I… I don't know.”

“Well, what's she like?”

Dexter cringed involuntarily, and it must’ve shown on his face because Riagán amended, “What's he like? Damn, I owe Skul twenty bucks.”

“You were betting on my sexuality?!” 

Riagán had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Dex. We really weren't sure.”

“Could you do me a favor and not confirm anything to him? Because then he'll start asking a lot of questions that I don't really want to answer,” Dexter said, balking at the thought of Skulduggery’s overly inquisitive nature leading him to the accurate conclusion that Dexter had a terribly huge crush on Saracen Rue. Which perhaps Skulduggery already knew, but he didn't need more to back it up. 

“I am more than happy to save my twenty.”

Dexter rolled his eyes. “Jackasses.”

“But you love us,” Riagán said easily. “Now, who is the lucky guy that's captivated my dear cousin?”

“He…” Dexter sighed. “His name’s Saracen Rue.”

“Skulduggery has mentioned him.”

“Yeah? Did you guys make a bet over whether or not he was the one that I'm gay for?” Dexter snapped. 

Riagán held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Dexter, you realize there's nothing wrong with you being gay or bi or whatever other sexuality you feel comfortable labeling yourself as - or even if you don't feel like putting a label on it.”

Dexter knew that, in theory. It was the general ideology amongst his peers. In practice, Dexter found himself a tad uncomfortable with the whole thing. He wasn't sure if it was the idea of being not straight or if the fact that Saracen was the first person he was interested in upon such a realization that made him more discomforted.”  
“And… maybe it's just him,” Riagán said.

“What?”

“Maybe you are pretty much straight, and it's not so much that you're interested in guys, but you're interested in your close friend.”

“Is that even possible?”

Riagán shrugged. “Seems like anything goes in the consensual human love department these days.”

“I find it funny that you felt the need to clarify.”

Riagán smiled. “Dexter, I have a feeling that you're probably overthinking this. Have you tried talking to him about it?” he asked, ignoring Dexter’s unconscious attempt at going off topic. 

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Why not -” Dexter repeated incredulously. “Because what if he doesn't feel the same way and then things are awkward?”

“You've know him for years, haven't you?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Then I doubt he'll let you go over a crush. If he does, then you could do better in the friend department.”

“Oh what, no clarifying adjectives this time?”

Riagán just smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am just here to torment Dex.


	9. Chapter 8: An Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know how this chapter went - it's really more of a lead-up to the next chapter, which is going to be super fun and important. 
> 
> Also, I'm procrastinating on studying... so I should probably get back to that. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

If Dexter could get away with sleeping through third period, he’d do it every day. Chemistry might as well call itself Algebra I review because underneath all the scientific terminology, that was all it was. At least, that was how Miss Rose presented it.

Unfortunately, where Miss Rose lacked in teaching skill, she made up for in being a hard ass. No talking in her class. No sleeping. No cell phones. Instant referral for any of the above offenses. 

Dexter sat in the back of class and worked diligently on the sheet Miss Rose handed out at the beginning of class. Stoichiometry. It was basic math, really. Dexter wasn’t having any difficulty with it. 

He was in the middle of the last problem when a folded piece of paper landed on his desk. Dexter glanced up, saw that Miss Rose was engrossed in something on her computer, and then looked over in the direction he thought the paper came from. None other than Tanith Low was there, to his left, grinning at him and giving him a thumbs-up from her seat.

Dexter hadn’t talked to Tanith since she’d introduced Valkyrie, and he honestly couldn’t figure out why she’d just risked Miss Rose’s wrath to throw a note at him. 

Dexter picked up the note, a hastily folded thing on lined paper. He unfolded it and smoothed it out on his desk. 

Im having a party on Sat., it read. 

Dexter couldn’t remember Tanith ever inviting him to a party. She invited Saracen sometimes, but never Dexter. He looked back at Tanith, who was still smiling at him, and raised an eyebrow. 

She threw another note at him, like she’d expected his skepticism. This one hit him in the head and bounced onto the ground. Tanith giggled at that, which caused Miss Rose to look up from her computer and shoot a glare in her direction. Dexter carefully reached down and scooped up the offending note. 

Val’s gonna be there. Bring ur friends. 

Dexter hadn’t talked to Valkyrie since he’d met her, either. He wondered why Tanith thought that would be of any interest to him. Not that she didn’t seem like a cool girl. She’d put Skulduggery in his place, which was always a talent Dexter looked for in people. 

In any case, Dexter wasn’t one to attend parties. His father didn’t approve of them, for one. He couldn’t really hold his drinks, either, if his two experiences of drinking beer with Saracen were anything to go by. 

I’ll have to ask my parents, Dexter wrote in response. Even on the off chance he decided to go to Tanith’s party, he wouldn’t ask his parents. He’d just sneak out. But parents made for a handy excuse. 

He folded the note back up and tossed it back to her. Tanith caught the note in one hand, naturally. She read it, and then smiled at him again. 

Dexter felt like he was missing something. 

***

“Why is Saracen sitting over there?” Skulduggery asked as he sat down at their typical table for lunch. “What did you do, Dexter?”

Ghastly laughed, but Dexter didn’t think it was all that funny. He was still standing, trying to decide whether he should go sit with Saracen again or if he should stay with Skulduggery and Ghastly. He felt a little bad about leaving Ghastly all alone last time, even if he had told Dexter to go make up with Saracen. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Dexter said, though that was a lie. He just didn’t feel like justifying his actions to Skulduggery. He could barely justify them to himself, if his concession to apologizing to was anything to go by. “Why don’t we go sit with them?”

Ghastly and Skulduggery exchanged a glance that Dexter didn’t even bother to attempt to interpret. “Sure,” Ghastly replied after a moment. 

Ghastly and Skulduggery stood up from the table and followed Dexter over to where Saracen was sitting with his new friends. 

“Oh, hi guys,” Saracen said. He turned to the four others, his new friends, and said, “That’s Skulduggery and Ghastly, and you remember Dexter.”

“The jealous prick,” Larrikin grinned. “How could we forget?” Dexter hated that guy, and he resented that Saracen and Skulduggery laughed at that comment.

“What did you do?” Skulduggery mused again.

Larrikin opened his mouth, probably to tell Skulduggery his perspective of what happened, but Dexter interjected with, “Tanith invited me to a party on Saturday.”

“Yeah, she invited me, too,” said Saracen, which didn’t surprise Dexter at all. “She said I should bring friends, if any of you want to come.”

“You’re going, then?” Dexter asked.

“Of course. Tanith’s parties are the best.”

“Awesome,” said Larrikin. “I’m down for a party. Anton! Let’s go to the party.”

“Quite frankly, I’m scared to imagine you at a party,” Anton responded, although if Dexter had to guess, he’d say that he didn’t think Anton was afraid of much of anything, let alone a tipsy sixteen year old. 

“I think he’d be hilarious,” disagreed Erskine. “Saracen, count Larrikin and I in.” Larrikin reached over the table and high fived Erskine. 

“I suppose that means I have to go, then,” Anton said with a sigh. “The pair of you need some sort of supervision.”

“It’s almost like you don’t trust us,” said Larrikin, pouting. 

“I don’t.”

“Hopeless, you should come,” Erskine said, slapping the quiet redhead on the shoulder. 

Hopeless shook his head. “I’m not… a party guy…”

“We should all go, really,” Larrikin commented like he hadn’t heard Hopeless. “Even you three.” He motioned to Dexter, Ghastly, and Skulduggery.

“I don’t think that’s-” began Dexter, but Skulduggery talked over him. “Yeah, we’ll come.” Ghastly nodded in agreement.

“Now you really have to come,” Erskine urged Hopeless.

Hopeless hesitated, but Erskine gave him a look that Dexter wouldn’t have been able to say no to. In fact, he was impressed with the three seconds that Hopeless managed to hold out before saying, “Fine, fine. I’ll go.”

“Yes!” Erskine shouted, and then gave Hopeless a hug. 

“This’ll be fun,” Larrikin said. Looking at the smile on Saracen’s face, Dexter could almost believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PARTYYYYYYY!


	10. Chapter 9: Tanith's Party, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED MY EXAMS! My math exam was very hard, and I hope I did well enough to keep my high grade. :/
> 
> Also, I had to break Tanith's party into two parts because there is SO MUCH going on. And, as you can probably tell, I've never been to any parties, ao you get stereotypical movie party. I figured that would be more amusing than reality anyway, right?
> 
> We're almost to the climax of this story, I believe, and then the end will probably be a few chapters after that. I'm predicting somewhere between 5-8 more chapters, but that could always change. 
> 
> Of course, I will be writing more after this. I adore the Dead Men! 
> 
> Which brings me to my question: which Dead Man would you like to see as the center of the attention? This story follows Dexter, as his perspective is my favorite to write from, but I'd like to branch out and try one of the others for my next story.

“What do people wear to parties?” Dexter asked, although he didn't have a lot of different types of clothing and really didn't care.

Saracen, who’d climbed up to Dexter’s bedroom window via a well-placed tree, was now sitting on the sill of his open window. He laughed, like Dexter had been joking. Or maybe he was laughing because he knew Dexter wasn't.

“Clothes, generally. Although there was that one time Eliza Scorn showed up topless.”

“Are you saying you think I should go topless?” 

“I'm sure that would make the ladies happy,” Saracen said.

Dexter frowned. “I'm not that attractive, Saracen.”

“Sure you are,” hummed Saracen. 

Ignoring the way that comment made his face warm, Dexter ducked back into his closet. He'd missed Saracen’s visits - Saracen usually dropped by a couple times a week, but he'd been busy and then mad at Dexter, and so it was the first time in almost a fortnight that he'd appeared at Dexter’s window.

“Just wear a nice t-shirt and some jeans,” Saracen called. 

Dexter didn't respond, just shut the door to his closet behind him and grabbed a pair of jeans from one of the bins on the floor. He kicked off his sweatpants and narrowly missed hitting his foot on the wall. Perhaps he should’ve changed in the bathroom.

He took off his shirt, as it was one of his old ones he wore around the house and unacceptably holey. He flicked through his t-shirts, eventually pulling out a white one that was speckled with splatter paint and a red ACDC one. 

“Are either of these acceptable party attire?” he asked Saracen as he came out of the closet. If only he had the nerve to come out of the figurative one like he could the literal one.

Dexter held up the shirts, but Saracen didn't seemed to have heard him. “Um, Saracen?”

Saracen startled, his gaze snapping from Dexter’s torso to his face. Dexter gave a little frown. Surely Saracen wasn't checking him out. Had he done that before? Dexter had been shirtless around Saracen before, but he'd never noticed Saracen being affected by it.

Maybe Dexter was just overthinking it in light of his own revelations. That's what he told himself. 

“Are you sure you don't want to wear one of the Vex, Inc. ones?” Saracen asked with a grin.

Dexter rolled his eyes. He had three shirts that promoted his father's company, and they were the few t-shirts his father approved of. If Dexter wanted to wear one of his other t-shirts, he'd put on one of those to leave the house and change on his way to school.

“I'm sure.”

“Aww, but it has a cute oil well on it.”

“There is nothing cute about those monstrosities.”

“Put on the paint one,” Saracen said. Dexter tossed the ACDC one back into his closet and pulled the splatter painted shirt. 

“Are you sure ACDC isn't more party-ish?”

“ACDC is, but you aren't,” Saracen said with a short. “You look better in that one. The other one has a weird neckline.”

“I don't-”

“Oh, just put your shoes on. You're going to make us so late that it won't even be considered fashionable.”

***

The music shook Tanith’s house, making the room vibrate. Dexter could feel the bass pounding in his head, and it made him feel ill. Beside him, Saracen seemed unaffected.

“It's loud!” shouted Dexter. He hoped Saracen could hear him over the thumping and thrumming of the music.

“It's a party, dumbass!” Saracen yelled back, and although Dexter couldn't hear his laughter, he could see it. “I'm going to get a drink! You want one?”

“I-” Dexter started, but Saracen had already slipped into the growing crowd. 

There were a lot of people crammed into Tanith’s living room. At least, Dexter was fairly certain it was the living room. There was a sofa - was that a sofa? - Dexter was pretty sure there was a sofa across the room, anyway.

The jocks and their girlfriends were packed to one side. Jace Mevolent, the quarterback, was grinding on China Sorrows, and his buddies were cheering them on. Dexter wondered how much China’d drank - she typically didn't give any guys the time of day, let alone the football players. 

Toward the other side of the room, the goth kids had congregated. They shifted between glaring at the popular kids and sipping their undoubtly shitty drinks. 

In between those to big groups, smaller cliques formed. A few nerdy kids here, some fangirls squealing about Benedict Cumberbatch over there. They were always talking about him whenever Dexter walked by them in the halls, so he just assumed that's what they were shrieking about over the noise. 

Dexter noticed Erskine, Larrikin, Anton, and Hopeless had all gathered amongst the small cliques. He wondered if he should go over to them, if that's where Saracen expected to find him. 

“Dexter!” shouted a voice from beside him before he could decide what to do.

Valkyrie was standing there, all smiles. She held out a red solo cup to him. There was some pinkish drink in it.

“Uh, thanks,” he said, taking the cup. He wasn't sure if she heard him, but she continued to smile all the same. 

Dexter cautiously took a sip from the cup. It had probably been some sort of fruit punch before someone had poured way too much liquor into it. He coughed at the burn of the alcohol; he hadn't expected it to be anywhere near that strong. 

“What is this?” Dexter asked. The music ground on his brain, rattled in his bones. Against his better judgment, he took another sip of the drink. He still sputtered a bit, even on the second try.

“Hawaiian Punch and tequila, I think!” Valkyrie shouted. 

Dexter didn't even want to know how Tanith had acquired tequila. “Are you sure we should be drinking this?”

“Oh c’mon, Dex,” Valkyrie giggled, “live a little!”

“You're like, what, fifteen?”

Valkyrie fixed him with a hard look. “So what?”

“This isn't even healthy for an adult, that's what!” Dexter insisted. Maybe he sounded like a spoil sport, but he didn't want to hear about Valkyrie getting alcohol poisoning or something. He plucked her drink from her hands and ignored her shout (“Hey!”) of protest.

Dexter pushed through the crowd in the direction he thought led to the kitchen, and then when he found it, he dumped his and Valkyrie’s drinks in the sink.

“Dexter!” Valkyrie hollered. “What the hell?”

“Look, you were drinking a cup of poison,” Dexter said. “There was way too much alcohol in that. It's not safe.”

“And what if I go get another?” 

Dexter considered arguing with her, but in the end all he said was, “It’s your life, Val.”

She glared at him as he walked past her, out of the kitchen. He saw that Ghastly and Saracen had joined the Larrikin’s group, and he went over to them.

Saracen had a can of Bud Light in his hand. Pretty terrible beer, but definitely safer than the punch. Dexter noticed that Larrikin had half a cup of said punch. He didn't say anything about it.

“Where's Skulduggery?” he asked Ghastly instead, and when Ghastly couldn't hear him, he repeated himself at something close to a full on scream.

“Oh, I don't know! He said something about seeing one of the guys that hurt Gamine.”

“And you just left him alone?”

Ghastly leveled him with a serious look. “Skul isn't stupid, Dex! He knows where the line is!”

Ghastly, for all his firsthand experience with Skulduggery, still didn't understand that Skulduggery’s mind wasn't linear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for those ending lines. XD
> 
> Warning: do not pour entire bottles of tequila into punch bowls. And, ew, do not drink Bud Light, that's just gross, geez Saracen.


	11. Chapter 10: Tanith's Party, Part II (alternatively, 7 Minutes in Heaven Gone Wrong)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to finish this chapter yesterday, I got some bad news and didn't feel like I could do it justice after that. In fact, I'm still not sure I really didn't this party justice at all, but you know, I enjoyed finishing up this chapter this morning, anddd I think it's alright. 
> 
> Anyway. On with the chapter!

Dexter decided very quickly that he was not a fan of parties. He tried to talk Saracen into leaving not long after the incident with Valkyrie, but he would hear nothing of it. It didn't take long for him to decide he was leaving on his own. What had he been thinking, anyway? What if the police showed up? He'd been thinking that Saracen had asked him to come, and he was a little annoyed that'd been all it'd taken.

Dexter lied and said that he was going to take a piss, and then head for the front door, but, of course, Tanith blocked his path.

“Where are you going?” she demanded. Somehow she could shout loudly enough that her voice still boomed over the killer music.

“I'm leaving!”

“No, you're not!”

“Tanith-”

Tanith grabbed Dexter’s arm and shoved him through a nearby door. Dexter stumbled, failed to regain his footing, and fell onto a pile of shoes. Tanith stomped into - well, it seemed like a coat closet - after him, flicked the light switch, and slammed the door shut behind her. It only muted the music minimally.   
Dexter groped at some jackets, managing to pull them down on top of himself rather than using them to heave himself up. Tanith thrust her hand into the mess he’d made, and Dexter grabbed it. She hauled him to his feet.   
“I invited you here because Val likes you, but she seems upset. What did you do?”

“I told her to stop drinking your toxic punch,” Dexter said. “And she… likes me…? Tanith, I’m not… interested in Valkyrie. Like that.”

Tanith gave him a hard stare. Dexter tried not to shift under it, but it reminded him of how his father looked at him when he knew Dexter had done something wrong. Finally, she said, “You didn’t even give her a chance.”

“Tanith, she walked away from me. And… I’m not interested. I’m sorry.”

“You’re interested in someone else,” Tanith insisted immediately. 

“I’m allowed to not be interested in Valkyrie and not interested in anyone else, either,” said Dexter defensively. 

“You're allowed, sure, but that isn't the reality of this situation. Who is she?”

“‘She’ is nonexistent! Tanith, I don't even know you that well. Could you just let me go?” he pleaded. He attempted to reach around her to grab the doorknob, but she slapped his hand.

“Dexter, this'll be a lot less painful for both of us if you just tell me what I want to know.”

“I already told you!”

“You're lying!”

“Why do you care?”

Tanith didn't respond with anything more than a scowl. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked over at the wall. “It doesn't matter why I care. You're not leaving yet.” 

Her voice had dropped so much that Dexter barely heard her last comment over the sounds of the party.

Dexter didn't understand what she wanted from him. He'd told her the truth about Valkyrie, the truth about not being interested in any other girls. She was oddly convinced that there was someone he liked, if they were going to be middle school about the phrasing, but Dexter couldn't even fathom why that would matter to her.

Dexter’s phone buzzed in his pocket, offering him a moment’s reprieve from Tanith’s madness. 

dude r u & tanith in the fuckin closet??? 

The message was from Saracen. Apparently, they'd been too loud at some point during their little tiff. That was just great - he didn't even want to know what other people were thinking.

“Look what you've done,” Dexter grumbled, showing Tanith the message before responding to Saracen.

she forced me in here and shes asking me strange questions

When he glanced up at Tanith again, she was mumbling under her breath. He could see her lips moving, but he'd never be able to hear her. Someone needed to turn that damn music down.

“In the closet!” she shouted triumphantly after a few seconds had passed. 

“What?”

“You're in the closet!”

“We're both in the closet!” Dexter motioned to the coats and shoes around them.

“No, you're in the metaphorical closet, which means it's a guy!” She grinned, “And Saracen said you weren't gay, silly boy.”

“I'm not!”

“Who is he?”

“Tanith!”

“Who is he?”

“Let me out of here!” He was understandably uncomfortable by the progression of this conversation. 

“Let yourself out!” Tanith challenged. Somehow Dexter knew she was referring to that metaphorical closet again rather than the literal one they were standing in.

“Fine! It's Saracen!”

Tanith looked like she was going to yell at him some more, but then his words processed, and she said, “I fucking knew it.”

“If you knew, then why-” Dexter began. He felt a bit panicky - was he that obvious? Who else could tell? Tanith barely knew him...

“I needed confirmation. He'd date you if you asked him,” Tanith said, the picture of calm. 

“What-?”

“You should go talk to him. I'm going to talk to Ghastly Bespoke.” Dexter couldn't exactly hear the giggles over the music, but it looked like she was giggling. Tanith didn't strike him as the type to giggle. Or be interested in Ghastly. Weird. Good for Ghastly, though, he supposed.

And with that, Tanith left the closet. Dexter peeked out after her and got some looks from nearby party goers. One guy had the nerve to give him a thumbs-up.

The group he'd tried to leave - Larrikin’s friends and Saracen - were still standing where he left them, abate Ghastly, who Tanith had probably already dragged off to another closet. Except now they were all looking in the direction of the coat closet. Dexter hoped he wasn't blushing as he made his way back over there.

“What was that about?” Saracen asked. Of course, he had to ask about three times befote Dexter heard him. Anton actually rolled his eyes at their exchange, went over to the stereo, and turned the music down. He then glowered at anyone who dared to question his command decision. Dexter was very grateful. 

“Nothing. Tanith’s strange.”

“She is,” Saracen agreed cautiously. “We could hear her shouting over the music.”

“Kind of impressive, really,” commented Erskine. He had a drink now. It looked like soda, but Dexter had a feeling there was alcohol in it, too.

“Couldn’ hear what she ‘as shoutin’ ‘bout, though,” Larrikin slurred. He was hanging off of Hopeless, who was gently and subtly trying to take his drink away. Anton, strangely enough, seemed to be ignoring him. Dexter wondered how many drinks Larrikin had, but then decided it was probably best not to know. “Didja get some?”

“No, it wasn't like that.”

“‘at sucks,” came Larrikin’s intelligent response. “Maybe Ghast’ll get luckier ‘an you.”

“Larrikin, why don't we go outside?” Hopeless suggested in that simple way of his.

“Wh-y?” Larrikin hiccupped. He went to take a sip of his drink only to realize Hopeless had taken it from him. “Hey!”

“There's more outside,” lied Hopeless, and that was enough to convince Larrikin to be led away.

“What's his problem?” asked Dexter. 

“Alcohol,” said Erskine, but Anton was shaking his head.

“He has many problems and no healthy way to deal with them,” Anton said cryptically. 

“Perhaps he should take up knitting,” Saracen suggested, and the other three gave him incredulous looks.

Saracen shrugged. “My grandma was an alcoholic. She started knitting to distract herself. It seemed to help.”

“Larrikin isn't an alcoholic,” said Anton, “he's just an idiot.”

“True love,” Erskine muttered sarcastically. Anton glared at him. Dexter, for his part, decided not to read into it. Whatever the nature of Anton and Larrikin’s relationship, it wasn't his business. That, and he didn't much care.

Dexter glanced at Saracen, though, and he looked a little sad. “Sorry,” Dexter whispered, but Saracen shook his head.

“Doesn't matter. There are other guys and all,” Saracen whispered back. He took a sip of his shitty beer - the Bud Light. Dexter thought he was still on his first drink of the evening. How responsible.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Dexter asked Saracen. To his annoyance, Saracen and Erskine laughed at him. Anton even cracked a grin.

“Sounds like you're trying to get laid,” Erskine said with a grin.

“I didn't-”

“I know you didn't mean it like that,” Saracen interrupted. “And yeah, we can go. See you guys on Monday,” Saracen said to Erskine and Anton.

And they left. Dexter couldn't help but wonder if he should say something about he and Tanith discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview for next time: FINALLY we get to the murder.


	12. Chapter 11: Many Things Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy new chapter!
> 
> I'm going on vacation soon. I don't know if I'll be able to write and upload and quite frankly I'm not worried about it. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

After the party, Dexter and Saracen went to McDonalds and bought a couple of shitty burgers. Dexter did not address what he and Tanith had discussed - what business of hers was it, anyway? He wouldn't risk ostracizing his best friend on Tanith Low’s whims.

It was only about a quarter past eleven when they made it back to Dexter’s house. 

“It wasn't so bad, was it?” Saracen asked, leaning against the side of Dexter’s house. The bricks couldn't be comfortable on his back.

“What, the party? That was terrible. I'm not made for partying.”

“Oh, come on.”

“It was too loud.”

“Oh, okay, Grandpa,” Saracen teased. 

Dexter rolled his eyes, though Saracen probably didn't see it in the dark, and grabbed the lowest branch on his well-placed tree. His father had threatened to cut the tree down before, but he'd yet to go through with it. Dexter suspected it was a matter of money rather than an unwillingness to follow through with his threat.

He hoisted himself up and climbed his way to his window. “Goodnight, Saracen.”

“‘Night, Dex,” Saracen replied, his voice just below normal speaking volume.

Dexter pushed up his window - or he tried to. It seemed jammed, or something, which was weird because it had never jammed before. Dexter never even locked it.

“Dex?” came Saracen’s voice from the bottom of the tree. “What's wrong?”

“The damn window won't open. I think it's jammed.”

“Well, shine some light on it.”

Dexter dug out his phone and turned on the little flashlight on it. He shined it on his window. “Shit.”

“What is it?” Saracen asked.

It was a note. Taped to the inside of his window. From his father.

Perhaps this will teach you that you cannot neglect inform me where you are going. I should have thought of this years ago, but from now on if I find that you have left without permission, then you will not return without permission. 

“He locked the window,” breathed Dexter. He wondered if his mother knew, if she said anything in his defense or if she just stayed silent. 

“What?”

“My father locked me out of the house,” Dexter repeated.

He heard Saracen suck in a sharp breath. “Come down, Dex.”

Dexter dropped down from where he was, nearly two stories up. He landed on his feet, which jarred his ankles painfully. One of them was probably sprained. He didn't care much.

“There's a key hidden in a pot out front. He doesn't know - he doesn't believe in hiding keys, thinks it invites thieves. But Mother hides one for herself because sometimes she forgets hers.”

“Dexter,” Saracen said softly. “He locked you out of the house with the intention of making you sleep out here. He always does this stuff to you.” Dexter felt Saracen cringe more than saw it, and he knew his friend was remembering the deodorant incident of eighth grade. “Please don't go in there and risk pissing him off even more.”

“I could go to the Pleasants,” Dexter said, but he actually couldn't, because it was past eleven and his aunt and uncle would want an explanation. How could Dexter tell anyone that he wasn't allowed in his house? 

Well, he had just told Saracen. But he couldn't tell anyone else. His father would definitely not like that.

“You could come with me,” suggested Saracen, probably because he could tell Dexter wasn't going to the Pleasants. Saracen always knew stuff like that, somehow.

“I don't want to bother your family.”

“Ah, Mom loves you.”

Dexter smiled. “She's a nice lady.”

“Yeah, she's pretty great,” Saracen agreed. “C’mon now. We should be able to make it home by midnight.”

“Thank you, Saracen.”

“Any time.”

***

On Sunday morning, Dexter ate pancakes with Saracen’s family. Mrs. Rue doted and fretted over him, which made Dexter think that Saracen had told her what happened. Not that she wasn't typically kind to him, but most people would be more annoyed by an extra teenager appearing in their house during the night.

He was, all in all, in a pretty good mood by the time he had to go home. Saracen walked him, slowly, back over to his house.

By Sunday afternoon, Dexter was locked in his bedroom - and his father had done something to his goddamn window from the inside, too, because he still couldn't open it - without his phone. Or his homework. Or his lunch.

It was easy to go from cloud nine to the ground.

***

And then, somehow he was on top of the world again on Monday morning. Saracen came and talked to him before first period. He wasn't late to Deuce’s class. He got a 100% on his Chemistry test. Larrikin didn't piss him off at lunch. 

It was a great day - which, of course, was why Riagán and Skulduggery had to show up with a corpse right after school. 

***

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Dexter, how would your father hide a body?” Riagán asked. He was very calm. That was good. Dexter needed to be calm, like Riagán. 

“I-he would probably dissolve it, um, in some sort of cleaner? My father isn't an idiot… you're going to have to cover it up well.”

“We're going to have to cover it up twice as well if we're going to pin this on Alaister.”

“Are you sure you can't just… hide it really well?” Dexter didn't always agree with his father, but did the man really deserve to be in prison for the rest of his life for a crime he didn't commit? Dexter didn't think so.

“They are going to come looking for him,” Riagán insisted.

“His mother is important. She's on the town council,” added Skulduggery quietly.

“My father doesn't deserve this-”

“Did you deserve to be locked out of your house on Saturday night?” Skulduggery asked, his voice still very low.

“I mean, I did sneak out-”

“What about the deodorant thing?” interrupted Riagán. “Or the toothpaste one? Or the fact that he's never considered what you want? Or how if he ever finds out how you feel about Saracen Rue, he'll probably beat the shit out of you?”

Dexter was not going to cry because of his father. He was going to cry because Riagán was trying to manipulate him. His father hadn't hit him in years - but what had Riagán even done when he had? What had any of the Pleasants ever done? Nothing. They all looked away, just like his mother.

“Get out.”

“Dexter-”

“My father is a dick. I know that. But he isn't a murderer. And you two and Gamine and Aunt Angela and Uncle Mark and my mother all claim to love me, but what did any of you ever do when he was doing all that crap to me?”

Riagán’s mouth was hanging open. Skulduggery stepped in front of his brother and said, “Dexter, I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry, too,” Dexter retorted bitterly. “Because now it's my turn to look away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "deodorant thing" is something I heard about in the other day wherein a parent would take their kid's hygiene supplies (deodorant, toothpaste, etc.) as a punishment. 
> 
> I could not come up with this kind of thing on my own, I swear. Who does that to their kid? 
> 
> But I'm sure you've noticed that Dexter's father isn't exactly the picture of a perfect partent.


	13. Chapter 12: The Wrong Person Feels Guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!!!
> 
> I know, I know. You all missed me terribly. (Just kidding!)
> 
> Anyway, this chapter's kind of a filler, but the next one is pretty interesting. We are approaching the end faster than you might think!

Dexter ate dinner with his parents and said nothing about his encounter with his cousins. He finished his homework and didn't think about his cousins. But when he laid down to go to sleep, he was consumed by thoughts of Riagán and Skulduggery.

The first thought was the most ridiculous. He wondered why, if they were guilty of an actual murder, did they both have fake blood on them.

He should’ve asked that, before he kicked them out. 

Dexter wished he had his phone so that he could call Saracen and ask what he thought, but Dexter really didn't want his cousins to go to jail, and the less people that knew what they'd done, the easier it would be for them to get out of this mess.

He also wondered why they came to him, who they'd murdered - although he had a pretty good guess as to who - why Riagán had tried to manipulate him. 

The last curiosity made him angry, and thus he tried to sleep. He tossed and turned all night.

***

“You okay?” whispered Saracen under his breath as they sat down for lunch the next day. Skulduggery was at school, across the table and next to Ghastly, giving Dexter a look that dared him to tell Saracen exactly what was wrong.

But Saracen wasn't asking about that because Saracen didn't know. So Dexter answered, “I'm fine. He seemed to be over it at dinner last night.”

That was mostly true - his father had been very civil at dinner last night, and Dexter was pretty sure he'd answered all his father’s questions correctly.

Erskine and Hopeless were already at the table, having some weird sort of staring contest. Or rather, the opposite of a staring contest. They were trying to stare at each other without the other noticing, it seemed. Dexter didn't have to energy to figure out what that was about.

“Where are Larrikin and Anton?” Saracen asked the table at large. 

The words had barely left his mouth when Larrikin zoomed to the table, plopping down in his usual spot. “You rang?” 

Anton followed at a much slower place and sat down next to Larrikin. 

When he sat down, Larrikin’s head whipped around and said, “I'm just sayin’, I'd help you hide a body.”

Dexter and Skulduggery exchanged a look that neither of them intended, and Dexter looked away as quickly as he could manage.

“Larrikin, shut up.”

“Why? It's kind of rude, really, to say that you'd leave me to fend for myself.”

“What reason would you have to kill someone?” asked Erskine. 

Larrikin shrugged. “That's hardly the point. I just need to know I have people to depend on if I kill someone.”

“I'll help you,” Saracen said, and if Dexter were looking anywhere near Skulduggery, he knew he'd see a pointedly raised eyebrow. As it was, he was staring down at his lunch. It wasn't tuna fish, it was ham and cheese, so at least he had that going for him.

“See, Saracen loves me!” exclaimed Larrikin.

“It is not a matter of loving you,” Anton said. “I do not want to go to prison. Therefore, I will not help you in any of your illegal activities, up to and including murder.”.

“Besides,” added Hopeless, “if you both were caught, who would come visit you in prison?”

Larrikin considered this. “Could we be cellmates?”

“I don't think it works like that,” Hopeless said.

“What about you, Dex?” Saracen asked, nudging Dexter’s arm. “Would you help me hide a body?”

Dexter finally looked up. Skulduggery, predictably enough, was giving him a challenging stare.

“That depends.”

“On what?” asked Larrikin. 

“I’d hide a body. I wouldn't help you frame someone else,” Dexter clarified. 

“Hmm, I didn't even think of framing someone,” muttered Larrikin in a concerning tone.

“You will not kill anyone, and you will certainly not frame anyone for murder,” Anton said sternly.

“Awww, you never let me have any fun.”

“Insufferable.”

***

“Dexter!” shouted Gamine as Dexter was walking home from school that afternoon. He hadn't seen her in a few days. She looked a lot better than she had, though her eye still looked a little sore.

Dexter considered ignoring her, but he ended up stopping. “Gamine. You look better,” he greeted as she crossed the distance between them.

He realized, with some surprise, that there were tears in her eyes as she walked over. “They killed him, Dexter,” she whispered lowly.

“I know.”

“My brothers… killed Serpine,” she repeated, grabbing Dexter’s shoulders. He was wrong; she didn't look better. She looked much worse. Anguished. Heartbroken.

“Gamine, I'm sorry,” Dexter said, although that wasn't entirely true, because a part of Dexter was happy that he couldn't hurt Gamine again, and he had a feeling Gamine felt like that, too. But she'd loved Serpine - or at least, she thought she had, so it had to hurt.

Dexter couldn't imagine how much. 

“They… I don't want them to go to jail,” she whispered, and her eyes said I can't lose them.

“I don't think there's anything I can do,” Dexter said, before she could ask.

She did anyway. “Dexter, please help them. Riagán has a plan - I know he's your dad, but… but if he goes down for it, they'll never look at my brothers.”

“Gamine…”

“Please!”

“Gamine, why don't you come over to my house, and we'll… we'll figure something out,” he promised, though somewhat reluctantly. 

Gamine’s expression turned hopeful. “Okay, Dexter. We'll talk.”

What had his cousins gotten him into?


	14. Chapter 13: Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fourth of July to any Americans out there!
> 
> Happy Monday to everyone else! 
> 
> Here's the next chapter.

Dexter and Gamine went to Dexter’s house. She was silent the entire walk, which was atypical for her. Dexter couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be alright. He almost wanted to refuse to help her brothers again just to punish them for hurting her, but that would only hurt Gamine, too. Dexter didn't know what to do.

Dexter told Gamine to sit at the table, which she did without protest. He went into the kitchen, and the maid, a sweet woman called Amanda, was standing there. She looked tired. Dexter had forgotten that today was her extended workday, where she did a deep clean. Usually she was only around in the mornings and during school hours.

“Amanda,” he greeted. 

The woman jumped. “Mister Vex, my apologies, I didn't realize you were home.”

Dexter tried not to sigh. He wished she'd call him Dexter - she looked old enough to be his own mother; if anything, he should’ve been using a title when addressing her. Every time he asked her to call him Dexter, though, she just shook her head at him.

“It’s alright. Um, Gamine and I were just going to do some homework in the dining room, if you aren't working in there…”

“I'm not. I just have to clean your parents’ room and your room and then I'll be on my way, Mister Vex.”

“Okay, well, thank you, Amanda.” Dexter walked past her and retrieved some cookies from the pantry. He glanced back at Amanda one more time before he left the kitchen. She looked familiar - but of course she did, she was in his house nearly everyday. Dexter couldn't quite place why he had an odd feeling about her. Maybe he was just paranoid, now that his cousins had proven themselves capable of murder.

He went back to the dining room and passed the cookies to Gamine, who took them without protest. She pulled one out of the packet and munched on it idly. 

“Dexter, I know it's a lot…”

“Gamine, your brothers killed someone,” Dexter whispered. “My father has his issues, but he isn't a killer.”

“But my brothers…”

Dexter shook his head minutely. Gamine slammed her half-eaten cookie down on the table. 

“At least my brothers love you!” she shouted. “Does your dad?”

Dexter recoiled from her words like she'd slapped him across the face, almost falling from his chair.

But Gamine wasn't done. “I know, believe me, Dexter, I know what they did was wrong. They shouldn't have killed him, but it was an accident. They were trying to scare him off to keep him away from me.” There were tears in her eyes again. “Because they love me, and they couldn't handle seeing me so hurt.

“They love you, too, and the only reason Riagán set up a plan that ruins your father is because we have looked away - that's what you said, right? We looked away when he hurt you, and we shouldn't have, and now… Dexter, now we have a way to help you.”

“Gamine, my father…” Dexter tried to say, and then he realized he was crying and didn't know what to say next.

“My brothers, Dexter,” Gamine responded anyway, and she was crying, too. “Why do you even care about him?”

Dexter shook his head, because he had no better answer than He’s my father, and Gamine wouldn't find that answer satisfactory. 

“Mister Vex,” came Amanda’s voice from the doorway of the dining room. She noticed that they were both crying and covered a gasp with her hand. 

“I'm sorry, Mister Vex, Miss Pleasant,” Amanda said as both Gamine and Dexter wiped their eyes. “There are… there are officers at the door - um, police - and they want to talk to both of you.”

“Did you… are they inside?” Dexter asked.

“Of course not. It would be a violation of both yours and your parents rights if they entered without permission,” Amanda said, looking slowly back and forth between Gamine and Dexter. “I don't live here, and I won't get in legal trouble by authorizing officers in the house.”

“How...are you a lawyer?” Gamine asked, wiping her eyes again.

“I… went to law school for a short time,” admitted Amanda. “It… well, it obviously didn't work out.” She motioned to her maid’s uniform.

“Oh.” Dexter felt like a dick - he'd never considered that Amanda had dreams of more than cleaning his room. What a brat he was. He'd have to think of a way to apologize later, but now he and Gamine had to deal with the police.

“Amanda,” he asked hesitantly, “we don't have to talk to them, do we?”

Amanda considered this. “I would call one of your father's lawyers. I don't know the circumstances under which they want to speak to you, so I can't really give you appropriate council.”

“Did you tell them I was here?” Gamine asked.

Amanda shook her head. “They asked to speak to any Pleasants or Vexes that may be on the property, and all I said was, ‘Excuse me for a moment, officers.’”

“Will they find that suspicious?” asked Dexter.  
“They might, but a jury won't take things like invoking your constitutional rights as anything more than strongly American. Anyway, it's not hard or relevant evidence of anything.”

“Are they going to question you?” Gamine asked. 

“I'm sure they will,” Amanda said. “Depending on what they think you did, they could question everyone you know.”

“I need to call my father,” Dexter grumbled.

“No! Dexter…” Gamine gave him a pleading look. 

“We need lawyers.”

“Dexter!”

“Should I tell the officers to come back later?” Amanda asked.

Both Dexter and Gamine looked at her. “Amanda, you don't have to help us,” Dexter said quietly.

“Mister Vex, with all due respect, I think you need some help.” Amanda disappeared from the room. 

Gamine took out her cell phone and punched one of the speed dials. 

“Careful what you say over the phone,” Dexter mumbled as it rang. Gamine gave a small smile.


	15. Chapter 14: The Interview

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, woo-hoo!
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even if I know little to nothing about police interviews. (Totally based this on crime TV shows, not gonna lie!)
> 
> You guys remember that I like comments, right? Feel free to drop me some!

Gamine talked to Riagán, who told her something along the lines of what Amanda had said - don't talk to anyone until they received legal council. She left shortly afterwards, slipping out the back to avoid the police cruiser parked on the street across from Dexter’s house.

Amanda called whoever she lived with, her boyfriend, maybe, and said that she'd be home late. Dexter told her multiple times that she could go home, but she just shook her head and mumbled something about remembering being a teenager.

Dexter’s father arrived home at exactly 6 o’clock sharp, and the police were on him before he reached the door. 

Dexter peeked out the front window and saw them talking, and then his father was nodding and heading toward the door again.

“Dexter Vex!” he shouted, and, cringing, Dexter rushed from his spot by the window to where his father was in the foyer. Amanda remained behind, although Dexter noticed her grab some cleaning supplies upon hearing his father.

“Father,” Dexter responded, appearing in front of his father, who was kicking off his loafers.

“Is there a reason the police want to talk to us?” he asked, his voice too calm for Dexter’s liking.

“None that I can think of,” Dexter lied.

His father gave him a calculating look. “If I hear otherwise, you will wish you could hide in prison. Now go. Talk to them.”

“But a lawyer-”

“You don't need a lawyer if you're innocent, Dexter. Now go!”

***

“Can you tell me where you were this past Sunday, son?”

Dexter was in the local police station, sitting across from the most stereotypical officer he'd ever seen. The guy had a big potbelly, a long mustache, and cheap sunglasses, which he was still wearing although they were inside. He also had a Southern accent, which was odd because Sanctuary Hill was not in the South.

Potbelly and another officer, a teeny tiny woman that looked like the wind would take her out, had escorted Dexter down to the station in the lurking cruiser that'd been outside his house. And then the woman had disappeared, and now it was just Dexter and Officer Potbelly.

“I was at home during the day,” Dexter replied honestly.

“And in the evenin’?”

“I went to a party.”

“Where?”

“Tanith Low’s house.”

The officer nodded. “We talked to Miss Low already. She said she spent time talkin’ to you. She provided you with an alibi, did ya know? Her and a Saracen Rue.”

“I spent the night at Saracen’s, after the party.”  
The officer sighed, adjusted his glasses. “I know, son. We spoke to all the Rues.”

“I'm sure Mason was a great help,” grumbled Dexter under his breath.

Potbelly removed his sunglasses and leveled a narrow stare on Dexter with his beady little eyes. “You're lucky ya got a nine year old vouching for ya, boy. Kids can't lie nearly as well as older folk.”

“So if you already knew all of that,” Dexter said, “why did you ask me?”

“Just makin’ sure everyone's story matches. Besides, I've seen Miss Low around these parts too many to take what she says at face value.”

Potbelly sat back in his chair. The room they were in had the table, two chairs. It was very grey, and it would be like any interview room seen on TV, except there wasn't one of those one way windows in the wall.

“Why am I here, exactly?”

“Don't act like you don't know, son.”

“I don't.” Maybe if his father was less of strict asshole, Dexter’s lying skills would be subpar. As it was, Potbelly shifted in his seat again and said,

“You know a boy called Nefarian Serpine?”

“My cousin’s ex-boyfriend. Sure, I know him.”

Potbelly didn't look terribly surprised, so Dexter concluded that he'd already discovered the connection between Serpine and Dexter’s family. He wondered how many people they'd already talked to, and why no one had given him a heads up. 

“He's dead. Murdered. Early Monday morning.”

Dexter wasn't sure how well he pulled off looking surprised, but whatever. They couldn't send him to jail based on a look.

“Murdered? How?” That was a genuine question. Riagán and Skulduggery had never gotten to that part.

“Well, as far as we can tell, the victim was stabbed with a pitchfork.”

Dexter couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. “A pitchfork? Really?” If he wasn't a suspect before, he definitely was one now. But a pitchfork? How exactly did Skulduggery think he could convince anyone that stabbing someone with a pitchfork was an accident? And where had the pitchfork come from, anyway?

“A kid is dead, boy,” snapped Potbelly. “You think that's funny?”

“I'm sorry, Officer,” said Dexter, even though he wasn't that sorry. “It’s terrible that someone's dead, but what does that have to do with me?”

“Your cousin, Gamine Pleasant, was attacked recently, wasn't she?”

“Yeah.”

“I've heard a rumor that you and your cousins Riagán and Skulduggery thought that Serpine might’ve attacked her.”

“You shouldn't listen to rumors, Officer,” Dexter replied coolly.

“Don't get smart with me, son.”

“Officer, if I were going to murder someone, I would not do it with a pitchfork, I'm tell you right now.”

“And your cousins?”

“I'd like to think they'd have a little more finesse themselves.”

Potbelly shifted again. The man was so fidgety, one would think he was the one being interviewed by the police.

“Son, your daddy ever beat you?” 

Well, wasn't that curveball? “Sir?”

“Your daddy ever smack ya around? Yes or no?”

“Well, n-not recently.”

“That a yes, boy?”

“I…” Dexter’s face was burning. “What does that have to do with Serpine?”

“We have reason to believe that your daddy was workin’ somethin’ less than legal, and that he was usin’ the local riff raff, namely the likes of Mister Serpine, to get the job done. Now, I don't believe he was usin’ the likes of you - that'd be a lil’ obvious, don't ya think? But I think ya know somethin’ more than you’re lettin’ on.”

“Wait, wait… who do you think is guilty, then?” Was this part of Riagán’s plan to frame his father? Could it really be working?

Potbelly leaned forward. “I know that it's either ya cousins or ya daddy. Possibly both. Hell, maybe I pegged ya wrong and ya were involved, too.”

“That wasn't really-”

“So ya daddy’s got a history of abuse, and this kid’s got some dirt on him. There's a motive. But ya cousins got a baby sis that got beat up by the very same kid. There's a motive.”

Dexter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, he'd connected all of that himself. 

“The killer was very very clean. The body, hidden outside of town. Don't know if that'll lead back to anyone,” Potbelly continued conversationally, like Dexter was another officer and Potbelly was asking for his opinion.

“Officer, I… I think I know who did it,” Dexter said before he could regret it.

“Who done it, son?”


	16. Chapter 15: The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER!
> 
> I would've warned you guys, but I actually didn't realize it until I started to write it. It's a short and sweet wrap-up - and honestly not what I expected.
> 
> The story tells me what to do, not the other way around, guys.

ONE WEEK LATER

Dexter was on time to Deuce’s class because he avoided his friends in the hall that morning. 

He ate lunch outside, under a leafy green tree. 

He walked home alone.

His father's trial was scheduled for the middle of next month. He had a whole team of lawyers on the case. Dexter was expected to testified against him. He didn't know if he would be able to do it.

Curiously, his father wasn't being arrested for Serpine’s murder. No one was. One of the lab techs apparently misplaced critical evidence, and now it would be virtually impossible to get a conviction. Or something like that. Amanda had tried to explain it when they found out, but Dexter hadn't really been listening. 

He was too focused on the fact that his father actually had been using wayward teenagers to carry out drug deals. His father, a drug lord? Dexter had known his father to be a lot of things, but that wasn't one of them.  
That was only half of the charges that the county was bringing up against him, though. The others were various abuse charges, and that was where Dexter’s testimony - and his mother's - came in.

Saracen was sitting in his window when he got home. Dexter had opened it wide as soon as the police came and took his father away. Since he was being brought up on an abuse charges, he wasn't allowed around Dexter or his mother until the trial. So much for innocent until proven guilty.

“Dex, you haven't talked to anyone since you talked to the police.”

Dexter didn't know what to say. In one month, his life had flipped upside down. What was there to say?

“We're worried about you,” Saracen added, though he didn't specify who “we” were. 

Dexter hadn't seen any of his cousins since before he was interviewed. They kept trying to get his attention, but he didn't want to talk to them. Any of them.

“I don't want to talk,” he told Saracen. He couldn't look at him. He might break down if he saw Saracen looking at him with those sad eyes.

“Dex,” Saracen said softly. Dexter heard his feet hit the floor, and then he was walking across Dexter’s room.

He put his hand on Dexter’s shoulder and pulled him into a hug. Dexter didn't realize he was crying until the tears dripped onto to Saracen’s shirt.

“He's not a good guy, but he's my father,” I said, “and-d they killed him. Skulduggery. Skulduggery was guilty, but I-I told the police it was my father…”

“I know,” Saracen whispered. He rubbed Dexter’s back. “I know.”

How Saracen knew was beyond Dexter, but he wasn't in any state to ask. Saracen led him over to the bed and had him sit down. Dexter cried on his shoulder for an unknown amount of time. By the time he stopped crying, Dexter felt too drained to be embarrassed. 

“Why am I even upset? He's a bastard!” he muttered, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand.

“He's your father,” Saracen said, running his finger through Dexter’s hair. 

“My cousins… I can't talk to them…”

“You feel like they betrayed you,” Saracen supplied.

“They did!” he shouted.

Saracen shushed him, pulled him into another hug. “It's okay, Dexter. They weren't trying to hurt you.”

“That doesn't make it okay.”

Saracen paused. “I know. I'm sorry.” Sorry for what, Dexter wasn't exactly sure. But it didn't matter. Saracen was the last person that needed to apologize, anyway.

“I love you, you know,” Dexter said.

Saracen smiled at him. “I know that, too.” Dexter took that as an I love you, too. 

“Is there anything you don't know?”

Saracen pretended to think it over. “Nope. I know everything.”

Dexter laughed. It felt nice. He resolved to do it more often. It'd been lacking a bit recently. 

So much had happened. So much was coming. Dexter didn't know how he'd be able to handle it all. 

But right now, Saracen was here. He was making Dexter laugh. And today, that was good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, that's all, folks. I hope you liked it! I'm fairly certain there will be other fics in this series in the future, but that's all for the moment.
> 
> In other news, I'm working on TWO new story projects at the moment.
> 
> The first one is a Star Wars/Skulduggery Pleasant crossover! It takes place during the Clone Wars and has lovely things like:
> 
> Padmé Amidala and Erskine Ravel being senator bros.
> 
> Dead Men with lightsabers.
> 
> Larrikin piloting a huge spaceship and probably getting people killed.
> 
> The other story is purely Star Wars and purely crack. I... might not even post that one here.
> 
> ANYWAY... if you don't like Star Wars, 1) what the hell is wrong with you and 2) don't worry because I will write more Skulduggery stories.


End file.
